


Monster

by myfortuneandterrorandrapture



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-05
Updated: 2014-02-05
Packaged: 2018-01-11 06:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1169909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfortuneandterrorandrapture/pseuds/myfortuneandterrorandrapture
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by this gifset http://prettiestcaptain.tumblr.com/post/75611908902/</p>
            </blockquote>





	Monster

Something big was happening with the werewolves; Chris knew it. Peter wouldn't let on, but the increasing number of training sessions that Gerard inflicted on both Chris and Kate was too obvious to ignore. Chris insisted he just had too much homework to constantly be in training; but that didn’t stop Gerard from pulling him out of bed at 3 in the morning, shoving a gun in his hands, and sending him on a tracking exercise.

“What if one day you’re cornered by a werewolf, and you can’t fight him because your head’s too filled with useless chemistry equations instead of your training? We hunt those who hunt us.” Gerard would tell him again and again. There were days when Chris almost believed him. He used to. Kate still did. Chris didn’t for one reason. Peter Hale.

Peter was a good student. Smart. Clever. Funny. Everything Chris wasn’t allowed to be. Smart was good – as long as it was about hunting. Clever was good – as long as it was about tracking. Funny was a liability. Laughter was something Chris only could share with Peter.

But even that was becoming rare. Whatever was going on in their world was bigger and stronger than they were. It was tearing them apart. Destroying their happiness and their innocence. Because it wasn’t just killing monsters anymore: it was becoming a war. Soon there would be civilian casualties, not just the victims of the werewolves.

 

 

One day Chris arrived at school to find that a member of his basketball team, Daniel Tanner, had been found dead in the woods. Obviously it had been a werewolf, as Gerard confirmed later that day. Gerard’s eyes almost twinkled when Chris blew off his homework that night to join the tracking team. Five days later, a hunter was killed during a hunt. But he wasn’t just killed. Every inch of his skin had been peeled off by wolf claws. It was a message. A power play.

When Peter next met him, Chris started a fight. Blamed Peter for the deaths, for not protecting them better, for not stopping whoever was responsible. Chris knew he was really yelling at himself. Peter let him scream all he wanted, never moving or speaking. When Chris was done, Peter held him in his arms, pretending not to notice that Chris had failed to hold back his tears. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Chris whispered. Peter had seen his fair share of violence and destruction, but these deaths had been disturbing even to him. All words seemed empty and useless to Peter, so he kissed Chris instead. That night they made love tenderly and quietly, trying to bring something meaningful back into their lives.

Two weeks later, Chris’s uncle Thomas was left on his family’s front porch, in pieces. The uncle who had bought Chris his first .45. The uncle who had taught him 5 card stud and how to pick a lock. Thomas’s six year old son found the body when his mother sent him to pick up the paper.

Gerard called school. Let them know Kate and Chris wouldn’t be in. Then he organized a hunt. But Chris went to school anyway, with one purpose. To get Peter.

 

 

Peter met him behind the dumpsters. “God, Chris. Even the dumpsters couldn’t cover your scent, “ he began joking, but stopped when he saw the dead look in Chris’s eyes.

“We’ve kept our lives, our families, as far apart from our relationship as possible. We’ve ignored it long enough. My family is out hunting right now. You’re coming with me and you’re going to help me track down whatever killed my uncle. I know you’ll be able to smell it out,” Chris hissed through his teeth.

“Chris, please don’t ask me to do that,” Peter pleaded, barely above a whisper.

“WHY NOT?” Chris roared, anger pushing away every other emotion.

“What do you think I’m going to find there, really?” Peter held Chris’s furious gaze with a maddeningly calm one of his own. “It’s a werewolf, Chris.”

“Obviously”

“And we’re just kids. We shouldn’t have to do this. We shouldn’t have to fight. It isn’t supposed to be easy for us to kill. It isn’t supposed to be up to us to catch the bad guys. We’re supposed to be worried about getting into college and how bad the school lunches are and how many times a week we can sneak out of the house before our parents get suspicious.”

“Yeah, but we were never going to get to be like that, and you know it.”

“At this point, I really don’t care. I’m going to do whatever it takes for _me_ to survive. And that involves me not ripping off the head of a werewolf that’s probably way stronger than either of us.”

“Now your afraid of it?”

“No, I’m not”

“So?”

“So, you promised me you would never make hunt one of my own. I can’t do that. Don’t burden me with that. I mean, could you – hunt another hunter?”

Chris frowned. “I wouldn’t have to. We would never do what they’ve done.”

The arrogance was too much for Peter. His calm aura snapped. “Keep dreaming, Argent,” he sneered.

“We don’t kill innocents. We hunt those who hunt us. The monsters.” It took Chris a second to realize who he sounded like, but he refused to back down. In fact, it made him feel more powerful.

Peter raised an eyebrow “Someday you’ll find a hunter who goes beyond defense. And I hope I’m there to watch you realize it,” he growled, the wolf appearing slightly enough to make the hairs stand on the back of Chris’s neck. Chris countered by taking a step closer to Peter.

“Well, then I guess the choice is whether you’re on my side or their side.”

Peter laughed, hollow and bitter. “It seems you keep forgetting that it’s not _their_ side. It’s my side. I’m a monster, too.”

Chris’s jaw clenched. “That’s it then? That’s all?”

Peter shook his head wistfully. “Guess so, Argent.” Peter brushed past Chris hard enough for Chris to lose his balance. Getting up from the ground, Chris could see Peter’s wolf form recede into the forest at top speed.

 

 

After that, they stopped speaking, stopped acknowledging each other. Peter threw himself into his studies, Chris into his hunting. Gerard had never been more proud of Chris; Kate had never been more supportive. Gerard kept saying they were getting closer to killing the bastard. Chris spent all night hunting and all day sleeping. He hadn’t gone to school for over a week, saying he was out with the flu.

“We hunt those who hunt us. We hunt those who hunt us,” Chris repeated to himself every day. Stripping and cleaning weapons. Target practice. Working out. Pouring bullets laced with mountain ash. We hunt those who hunt us. It if was repeated it often enough, maybe he could forget the look on Peter’s face the last time they spoke.

Gerard woke Chris up at 3 in the afternoon, almost giddy with the news. He had a lead. An infallible lead. They would head out at 1900 hours and not stop until it was over.

They spread out through the woods where their target was located. Chris, still propelled by rage, broke off from his team with a crossbow slung across his back. He found some tracks easily enough.

“We hunt those who hunt us” he repeated silently, trying to bury the image of his dead uncle and failing.

He heard the sound of crunching leaves to his left. Chris swung his crossbow around to aim just in time to see a werewolf dash off into trees. Chris followed, not thinking about backup, or safety, or the fact that this werewolf was barely the size of a Labrador. He aimed at the werewolf, but the arrow stuck into a tree instead of the werewolf’s side. But the hillside ahead would offer a better advantage. He slowed by the edge of the trees as the werewolf slowed by the steep rocky slope. Chris aimed his crossbow, and exhaled as he released the arrow, knowing it would find its mark.

But it didn’t.

Half-wolfed, Peter had emerged seemingly out of nowhere and caught the arrow two feet before it reached its mark. The mark shifted before Chris’s eyes. It was a young girl, no more than twelve, terrified and curled into a ball. Peter’s cousin. This couldn’t be the killer. It wasn’t. The claw marks on the victims were at least twice as spaced out as what her claws could have made. Chris felt sick. What had he done?

We hunt those who hunt us.

None of them could risk speaking, not with the amount of hunters in the forest.

But behind those fangs and yellow eyes, Chris knew what Peter was thinking:

"You're a monster, too."


End file.
